Newspaper Taxies
by nomadic725
Summary: Sam and Dean head to New York to stop a haunting. However, they somehow manage to get stuck with a mojoless Gabriel.
1. Light at the End of the Tunnel

To get one thing straight, Dean hates New York City. Always has and always will. The traffic going out is bad. The traffic going in is worse. The Impala never Houdinis itself out of the frickn' place without a new scratch. Also, the Christmas the Winchesters spent there when Dean was thirteen, he was robbed by a guy dressed as Santa Claus and got a face full of jungle bells.

All in all, although Dean hates to criticize an entire city, New York's a terrible place.

The brothers were about halfway through that tunnel that seems like it never ends.

"I hate this frickn' city!" Dean smacked the wheel in frustration.

"Just because you were beat up by Santa Cl—"

"I told you never to speak of that, Sammy."

"Hello, Dean," a low voice from the backseat interrupted. Dean jumped, then whirled around.

"Hey, Cas. You know, like, _I'm here too_," Sam looked irritable.

"Yes. It appears that you are. Anyway, what brings you to New York?"

"Could ask you the same thing, my feathered friend. One of our dad's old pals, Geoson, called us. Apparently, there's a restless spirit in his apartment building," Dean explained.

"I see."

Dean, who had turned back to the road, heard wing beats behind him. At first he thought that Castiel had left, but a quick glance in the rearview mirror told him otherwise.

"Gabriel?"

"I need you to watch him," Cas told the brothers. Technically, he only looked at Dean, but he meant the brothers.

Sam stuttered out, "What—why?"

"Now he may be a bit irritable, but—"

"Cas, tell us what the crap is going on!" Dean demanded.

"A bit irritable, eh, bro? You'd be irritable too if you were draining like a cheap battery!" Gabe turned in disgust and glared out the window. "Can't you go any faster, Dean-O?"

Sam watched as a vein in Dean's forehead visibly twitched. "What do you _think_, Gabe? There is a frickn' car in front of us. And ya' know what's in front of that frickn' car? Another _frickn' car!_ And after that? _Frickn' oceans of frickn' cars! _Now I don't know about your cars, but mine tends not to be able to move through solid objects or fly, so _no_, Gabriel. I can't go any FRICKN' FASTER!"

Judging by the fact that Dean used the word 'frickn'' six times, Sam could tell that he was pissed.

Clueless angel friend, not so much.

"So you will watch him?"

Dean was about to tell Cas off, but Sam interrupted. "Before we agree to anything, what did he mean by 'draining like a cheap battery?'"

Cas sighed. "He's losing his—what do mortals call it?—mojo."

"How?"

"We don't know. We think Raphael hit him with something. I have to meet up with Balthazar."

Castiel was gone in a flutter of wing beats.

"Cas! We never agreed—uh!"

Gabriel lounged in the backseat, mostly keeping his mouth shut and scowling murderously at everything in sight. Dean gripped the wheel until his knuckles were burning white. Sam, feeling the unhealthy, negative energy inhabiting the Impala, slunk down a few inches in his seat.

Forty-five minutes later, there was light at the end of the tunnel.

"About time, Dean-O."

"Shut up," he snarled.

* * *

><p>Another thirty minutes later, the trio arrived at Central Park. They found the apartment complex called Archstone.<p>

Sam and Dean piled out of the Impala. Gabriel stayed where he was.

"You coming?" Sam tapped on the back window.

Gabriel flipped him the bird.

"Guess that's a no," Sam muttered and began receding to the entryway.

"Wait—Sam! Cas told us to watch him. Shouldn't we, I don't know, _watch him?" _Dean demanded, gazing in at the hollow shell that was once an archangel.

Gabriel flipped Dean the bird.

Dean's brow furrowed, and he flipped the bird right back at him. Gabriel retaliated with two birds. Dean did the same. Sam, fed up with both of them, ambled on inside without the two idiots.

The lobby was beautiful—the architect had a love for marble. The walls and floor shone with fresh polish. Flowers were set out in banquets. A lone concrete statue stood in the center of the room—it was quite noticeable being as it was the only thing that wasn't marble. It looked to be of a mermaid.

Sam strolled up to it, eying the detail.

"Sam Winchester?" A man's voice asked.

Sam turned. "Geoman?"

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are incredibly appreciated, motivating, and helpful! *hint hint*<strong>


	2. Newspaper Taxies and Marmalade Pies

Dean somehow had pried Gabriel out of the Impala, and, judging by Gabe's wacked out hair and crazy eyes, he didn't go down without a fight. The three sat around Geoman's small kitchen table in his apartment. Considering that Geoman owned the apartment complex, it was only natural to live there. Gabe eyed the chocolate cake on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"It all started about a month ago. First it just sounded like whispers in the night, but the ghost sorta went physical, if ya know what I mean. It started smashing things. Waking people up. Calls to the police keep going through about break-ins, but it's the thing, I know it."

Sam, who had been listening intently, inquired, "I looked up Archstone online. It appears that you renovated the lobby?"

"Yeah. Last month."

"That's probably it. Sometimes, spirits are awakened when humans renovate the particular spirit's place."

Dean shrugged. "Time fits."

Gabe just kept eying the chocolate cake, silent for once. When he felt every inhabitant of the room's gaze fall upon him, he snippily asked, "What?"

The brothers rolled their eyes. Cas dies for this one.

Gabriel turned back to drooling as he gazed longingly at the cake.

Dean shot Geoman an obscure motion to not offer him any. The last thing they needed was a moody archangel-trickster-thing high on sugar.

"There is only one apartment open. I assumed that only you two would be coming," Geoman apologized to the brothers. "I don't have a separate room for…?"

"Gabriel," the trickster snapped.

"Oh. Like the angel."

"I _am_ the angel, you ham-headed bastard."

"He means," Sam interrupted, shooting Gabriel one of his say-another-word-and-you-die looks. "Thank you for providing him with a roof over his head so he doesn't have to sleep on newspapers in the street."

Gabriel glared at Sam. Sam glared back.

"No. I'm pretty sure I meant what I—OUCH!"

Sam hadn't even realized that he had kicked him until the trickster cried out. Huh. He guessed it was instinct to kick annoying, PMSing jerks like Gabriel.

Sam shot Geoman a small smile. "We'll try to gather any information we can, but we should probably get to our room. I apologize for our, um, _friend. _He's usually more—" Sam struggled for the word, but finding none, just dropped the sentence and headed for the door, archangel in tow.

"Apartment 2B!" Geoman chucked the keys. Dean caught them in midair.

"What was that!" Dean demanded to Gabriel as soon as the trio reached the hallway.

"Mwhat?" Gabriel asked with a full mouth.

"What are you eating?" Sam's lip rolled back in disgust.

"Mhocolate make."

"Chocolate cake?"

The trickster nodded.

Two sets of narrowed eyes settled on Gabriel.

"Mwhat?"

* * *

><p>"So what's this plan, exactly?" Gabriel asked, in his usual arrogant manner. It was dark out, and the brothers were going to try to glimpse the ghost. Over the course of the day, between their meeting with Geoman and then, Gabriel has gradually been losing his PMSing thing. Don't get me wrong—he still makes everyone within a ten foot radius miserable, but he was better.<p>

"Try to see it, try to see where it is coming from, that kind of thing," Sam answered him.

"What, you're just winging it? You don't have an actual plan?"

"We don't need one," Dean flashed him a smirk.

"No wonder you muttonheads have died more times than a person can count on one centipede," Gabe muttered too softly for the brothers to hear.

There was a _CRASH!_ and the sound of dishes braking from the ballroom. Sam and Dean took off, going top speed toward the sudden noise.

"I'll just wait here!" Gabe called after their retreating figures. He pouted. He really didn't want to be here.

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean broke upon the locked door to the ballroom. A cabinet had been knocked over. The shattered pieces of dishes were scattered about.

"Fancy apartment place, huh?" Dean asked, grinning. "They have a frickn' ballroom!"

Suddenly, they heard a man scream—a man that sounded all too familiar.

"Gabriel," the brothers said in unison.

Sam and Dean charged off to where they had left their charge. Gabriel was crumpled on the ground.

"Gabe?" Sam toed the archangel.

Gabriel rolled over. He had a kind of peaceful look that had settled over his features. "Newspaper taxies."

"Uh, what?" Dean inquired.

Gabe gripped Deans jacket with both hands, pulling himself up so he could look into the Winchester's eyes. "Marshmallow people eat marmalade pies."

The brothers exchanged looks.

"His brain's totally fried."

"Yup."

* * *

><p><strong>*cough* review *cough*<strong>


	3. Night of the Hungry Squirrel with Rigby

Dean dashed through the crowd, eyes wide with terror. He threw a glance behind him. They were gaining. With a cry, the Winchester stumbled and tripped. He landed on his face as his pursuers overtook him.

Ten minutes earlier, the scene previously mentioned started with Gabriel. Just like everything else.

Sam, knowing the trickster only ate sweets, sucked up his health conscious thing and brought pop-tarts for all of them.

Ever since last night, nothing Gabe said made sense. He kept going on and on about everyone wanting to change the world or some hippy sounding crap. He also kept calling Sam 'Oh, Darling."

Dean was fed up with the new charge, so he took his pop-tart package and left to eat at Central Park.

He lounged on one of the park benches. A squirrel cautiously scampered up to him.

Dean, not wanting anyone to see him being kind to the little animal and ruin his bad-ass image, discreetly threw a piece of the pop-tart crust to the little guy.

The happy little squirrel grabbed it and shoved it whole into his mouth. The hunter smiled. The squirrel scampered off.

About thirty seconds later, the same squirrel came back with a little squirrel friend.

"Alright, alright," Dean murmured. He looked around, quickly threw a chunk of crust, and went back to looking like himself.

The squirrels scampered off. About twenty seconds later, they came back with about seven more squirrels.

Dean glared at them. They glared back. Uncomfortable with the nine squirrels surrounding him, Dean decided to start to make his way back to the Impala. He slowly rose, eying the squirrels.

About ten more squirrels joined the nine. More were coming in by the wagonload. Dean began to back away slowly. The small army watched him with their beady little eyes. Dean, sweating now, broke out into a flat out run, hearing the little thumps of little squirrel feet pursuing him.

Which brings us back to the paragraph in the beginning of the story. Dean lay there, paralyzed, engulfed in squirrels.

* * *

><p>Dean stormed the room like S.W.A.T, in the process, grabbing a squirrel from his shirt and pitching it into the corridor.<p>

"Dean!" a low voice called from the kitchen. "I told you to watch him!"

Dean trooped into the kitchen. Sam was seated at the table and Cas was standing, surveying the also standing Gabriel.

"Expert textpert choking smokers," Gabriel announced.

"Oh, c'mon. He's not that bad!" Dean told Cas in his defense.

"Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna."

Cas glared at his friend. "He is that bad, Dean."

"We left him for five minutes!"

"And now he is…I am not sure what he is."

"Can't you fix him?" Sam inquired.

Cas acknowledged Winchester the Younger for the first time since Dean arrived. "No, Sam. I cannot 'fix' him because I do not know what is wrong with him. Something that I would be aware of if you both had watched him like I had originally asked."

Well, Cas was obviously pissed.

"Furthermore," Cas continued, his face reddening. "You should have known not to treat him as the Gabriel you knew. Being as he was being drained of his 'mojo', he is quite human. And being as my brother was quite human, you should have protected him from the dangers a human Gabriel cannot protect himself from. And for your understanding, I would take him away from your unwatchful eyes, however I have no other option. So don't 'screw up' again!"

It was the longest speech the brothers had ever heard from the angel. Team Winchester stared with open mouths as Cas disappeared in a flutter of wing beats, feeling very put down.

"Eleanor Rigby died in the church where her wedding had been," Gabriel spoke up suddenly.

The brothers exchanged looks.

"Eleanor Rigby? Who was she, Gabe?"

The brothers looked on to the archangel with intense interest. Both had read about ghosts leaving imprints into humans to display who they were.

"Picked up her rice."

"Gabe," Sam started speaking to the trickster softly. Dean flew to the computer and typed in the name 'Eleanor Rigby.'

"Get anything?" Dean called as the search results loaded.

"He's talking about rocking horse people now. Again."

"Found it! Oh."

"What?" Sam demanded.

"Eleanor Rigby is just some old Beetles song."

"I'm surprised you didn't know that off the top of your head."

"I don't listen to the Beetles."

"I guess Gabe does."

"We sailed on to the sun," Gabe cut in.

"That's nice, Gabe," Sam replied sweetly.

* * *

><p><strong>Pretty please with little Dean, Sam, Cas, Gabriel, and Balthazar sprinkles on top <em>review!<em>**


	4. The Noble Lollipops and Friends

The second night in Archstone was nearing. There was a knock on the door. Sam answered it to a panting Geoman.

"What's with you?" Dean asked, seeing his father's friend wheezing.

"Someone *hwph hwph* set loose *hwph hwph* a rabid squirrel *hwph hwph*!"

Dean straightened up. "A rabid squirrel? No kidding."

Maybe he shouldn't have chucked that squirrel into the corridor.

"Feelin' too foot small," Gabriel suddenly proclaimed.

Geoman flashed the brothers a confused look. Dean slowly lifted his finger to the side of his head and traced a few circles in the air. Sam shot him a disapproving glare. It was evident that Sam had been feeling bad about leaving Gabriel to get turned into a vegetable.

"Just wanted to tell you guys about the squirrel," Geoman had caught his breath. "Let me know if you see him around. I hired an exterminator. He's coming in the morning." On that note, Geoman left the apartment.

"You are me, and we are all together," Gabe informed the Winchesters.

"I want to check out the ballroom, use the EMF meter and such," Sam said.

"Okay, let me get my jacket."

"No no no no no. You, Dean, are going to watch Gabriel."

"Can't we take him with us?"

"Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog's eye," Gabe said.

Dean sat down in disgust. "Fine!"

Sam smirked, grabbed the EMF meter, and exited out the door, leaving his red-faced brother and recently-gone-mad-archangel behind him. It felt wonderful to be free from the both of them.

He took the stairs down because of that accursed pop-tart he ate. Being only on the second level, he arrived in under two minutes to the lobby. He went straight to the ballroom doors.

With a flick of his wrist, the meter turned on.

No EMF. Not a speck.

Not discouraged yet, he stuck the device, still on, into the pocket inside of his jacket and began striding down the corridors. Nothing.

Huh. Tricky little bastard.

Sam returned to the lobby and began to make his way back to the stairs up to his apartment. Suddenly, the EMF meter spiked, releasing that loud and annoying noise EMF meters generally made.

This was a lobby jam-packed with people, by the way.

Every head in the room turned to stare Sam down. Sam fumbled in his jacket to turn the device off, but in his surprise and sudden haste, he was clumsy and turned a five second job into a fifteen second job. Said job was also accompanied by Sam's little jig to get to the meter.

Once off, the lobby was dead silent. Everyone stared down Sam. Sam kinda just backed away slowly to the mouth of the stairwell.

* * *

><p>Back in the apartment, Dean sat across from Gabriel.<p>

"So…how's it going?"

"Sunday morning creeping like a nun."

"Oh. Me? I'm fine. Kinda mad that Cas had the nerve to call us 'unwatchful', but you know."

"Friday night arrives without a suitcase."

Before Dean could ponder up a response to that one, Sam stormed the room. He paused and rounded on Dean, his back to the archangel.

"There's some EMF in the lobby. I'll have to wait until later when the room is less crowded to go back and check where exactly it's coming from," Sam reported, flipping his floppy hair out of his eyes.

"Don't ya hate the noise those EMF devices make?" Dean said, guessing what happened and snickering.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Dean had fallen asleep. He dreamed that he, Sam, Balthazar, Cas, and Gabriel were all at Bobby's. He didn't know where Bobby himself was. Suddenly, a huge lollipop truck backed up to the house. Gabriel sprang up looking delighted, and ran toward the truck, his mouth watering like Niagara Falls. The doors to the truck burst open with confetti. Lollipops in yellow and green lumbered out, towering over his head. They looked right at him but then—<p>

—out of nowhere he came. The squirrel rose up on top of the lollipop which suddenly had reigns. The squirrel began driving the giant lollipop towards Dean, murder in his little beady eyes. The other giant lollipops suddenly had squirrels on top of them as well, along with reigns. Dean watched in opened-mouth, wide-eyed horror as the army of squirrels on their noble lollipop steeds charged him—

"I AM THE WALRUS!" Gabe screamed into Dean's ear. Dean jumped awake.

"I am the walrus," Gabe said, more softly, pointing toward Dean's phone which was ringing. He picked it up, looked at the screen, saw that he missed fourteen of Sam's calls, and answered Sam's fifteenth.

"Dude! Where have you been?"

"Sleeping until Gabe came up to me yelling 'I am the Walrus!'"

"That is definitely a Beatles song. I wonder why he keeps quoting Beatles songs?"

"Did you get something?"

"Yeah. The EMF—it's coming from the statue."


	5. The Terminator and VeggieGabe

Dean flew to the kitchen, ruffling through junk drawers and slamming them shut until he found what he wanted.

Twine. Like the stuff you use to tie up turkeys.

"Here, Gabriel! Here, boy!" Dean called. Gabriel lumbered into the kitchen, completely mellow. Dean couldn't decide if he liked the can-take-care-of-himself-but-a-big-jerk Gabriel or Veggie-Gabe better.

He tied the twine around Veggie-Gabe's neck loosely, but made sure the knot wouldn't movie and kill him. He didn't think that Cas would be too happy if he accidentally hanged his brother. He tied the other end of the twine around his wrist and began walking Gabriel out of the apartment. Slinking down the walls stained black from shadows, he found the elevators. He pressed the button down silently.

The elevator was empty, so he loaded Veggie-Gabe and himself on and pressed the button to the lobby.

The doors chimed open. The lobby was deserted at this hour. Dean found Sam still standing in front of the statue.

"Dean?" Sam eyed the homemade leash with disproval, but decided against saying anything about it. "This thing's radiating EMF like nothing I've ever seen."

"Here. Hold Gabriel," Dean handed Sam the leash and bounded off into the darkness.

"Dean! Uh!"

"Look for the girl with kaleidoscope eyes," Gabe told him.

Meanwhile, Dean had sprang off to Geoman's apartment. He pounded on the door. It was only when Geoman answered wearing pajamas and a sleepy look did he realize the hour.

"Sorry," Dean apologized. "But where did you get that statue? The one in the lobby?"

"Mmm…I bought it. I bought it because it was John Lennon's. It was in his apartment when he was shot. I liked the Beatles."

"John Lennon? _THE BEATLES?" _Big, major, frickn' huge metal head slap. "When did you get it?"

"Mmm about a month ago, why?"

Dean ran back down to Sam and the archangel without any of anything that could have passed as a farewell gesture.

"It was John Lennon's!" Dean reported. "It was in his apartment when he was shot!"

Sam looked over at Gabe.

"What would you do if I sang out of tune?"

"Well," Sam began. "That would explain a lot. Do you think his spirit could have gone into this statue and now he's traveling around with it?"

"Geoman said he bought it last month. Time fits."

"So we might be dealing with the ghost of John Lennon. This is insane."

* * *

><p>The brothers and Veggie-Gabe slept until noon. They would have slept longer if it didn't sound like Armageddon downstairs.<p>

Sam had adopted the leash idea as long as the twine was tied around Gabriel's wrist. And so, the brothers and leashed angel groggily sashayed down to the elevators and further into the lobby to see what was the matter.

A man that was clad in black stood with what looked like a Men in Black's gun. He was shooting low and towards the floor.

"What do you think you are doing?" Dean demanded sleepily.

"Killing myself a rabid squirrel. He's a tricky little bastard, he is."

"Oh, you're the exterminator. Geoman said you were coming."

"I'm _The_ _Terminator _kid. That's what you can call me. Here's my card, in case you have yourself any pest problems."

The Terminator shoved his business card into Dean's hand. Dean looked down at it.

_The Terminator_

_Exterminator_

_Pests of all kinds, species, breeds, age, color, size, angle, quickness, slowness, night creatures, sea creatures, day creatures, other night creatures, and eggs._

Dean glared back to The Terminator.

"What?"

"Well," Dean began, "did you hit it yet?"

"I jus' said that it's a tricky little bastard. No, fool."

"Well, hurry it up. I want to go back to sleep."

Dean turned on his heel and left.

* * *

><p><strong>Gabriel would want you all to review, although he can't tell you this right now being that he is a vegtable. *Review!*<strong>


	6. Comfort Eater

Dean wanted pie. For all he was concerned, pie made the world go round. He was stressing out as well—Gabe isn't exactly a walk in the park, even in vegetable form—and pie reduced stress. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that pie was the only way that he would mentally survive this job. What could he say? He's a comfort eater.

After relaying all of these reasons to Sam, his brother agreed to go get pie. Sam tied some twine around Gabriel's wrist, the other end around his own, and set out. Dean met them at the Impala and got into the driver's side as Sam shoved Gabe into the backseat. He slammed the back door and boarded the Chevvy himself, calling shotgun.

After a few minutes of driving around town in traffic, they saw a place called Betty's Pies. Sadly, there were no parking spots left so the three had to park a few blocks away and walk over. Dean didn't care. He was getting pie.

Dean sat down next to Sam and across from Gabriel in a booth. He flicked up his menu, mouth watering at the tasty pictures.

_Blueberry? No, maybe strawberry? No…what about raspberry? I'll just get mixed berry!_ Satisfied, Dean flicked the menu down. Now they were up two people.

Balthazar and Castiel sat across from the brothers and next to Gabriel.

Assuming that Cas had come to say he was sorry about the entire 'unwatchful' thing, Dean said, "It's okay, Cas. No need to apologize. I know you didn't mean it."

"I wasn't going to…apologize…," Cas told him, confused.

"Oh," Dean visibly deflated. He was still hurt by that. "Did you come to take Gabe back?"

Cas didn't noticed that he poked the Dean-balloon with a needle and stated, "No, I still have a few more things to do before I can take him back again."

"Really, guys?" Balthazar demanded, holding up Gabriel's leash made of twine.

"You said watch him."

"You _leashed_ an archangel!"

"And notice that he hasn't had any other problems!"

Balthazar exhaled sharply, irritated. He mumbled something that the brothers couldn't understand, although it sounded suspiciously like 'damn humans.'

"Did you figure out why Gabe is almost human?" Dean asked Cas.

"No. Did you figure out why Gabriel is saying nonsense?"

Dean grinned. "Not nonsense, my fine feathered friend. Beatles songs. We think John Lennon slimed him with Beatles lyrics. And that looks like more than you two."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes. "Maybe our answer is harder to find."

"And maybe you couldn't find an answer if it smacked you in your British accent!"

"That is not possible to 'smack someone' in any type of accent, Dean. Accents cannot be smacked," Cas cut in.

Dean looked as if he was about to say something he would regret in the morning, so Sam cut him off. "Why don't we go back to our apartment to talk?"

"I didn't get my pie," Dean pouted.

The waitress chose that moment to come by. "What will you be having?"

"A mixed-berry pie," Dean answered quickly.

"To go," Sam added.

* * *

><p>Dean held the pie box in his arms like precious treasure as the five strode from the Impala to Archstone. Sam pushed open the glass door and was greeted by a blast of sound. The three angels and two humans dived behind the couch, away from the firing. When it seized, five heads cautiously rose up.<p>

"Sorry," The Terminator said. "I thought you were the squirrel."

The lobby looked like a warzone. Curtains were adorned with bullet holes and were scattered about the room. Shells littered the floor. The marble had more dents than one could count.

"How could you possibly mistake us for the squirrel?" Dean demanded, face steaming. He was still cradling his pie.

"People make mistakes!"

"Geoman's gonna be pissed," Sam looked around the room with wide eyes.

"No kidding," Balthazar muttered.

Castiel, who had stayed silent up until this point, said, "Poor squirrel."

The Terminator glared at the angel. The angel glared back with sapphire eyes.

"You pity this thing? It's a menace, fool! It has to die!"

"I don't see the squirrel as the menace," Cas shot back. Dean didn't usually see Cas lose his temper unless Dean did something stupid like let his brother's brain get veggified. Cas hardly argues with anyone, either.

But now, he looked like he'd punch the guy out for the squirrel.

Strange angel.

"What would have happened if you had hit one of us?" Dean asked, breaking up the stare down. "Are those real bullets?"

"They'd stop a squirrel's heart, but they'd only paralyze a human for a few hours."

"You would stop a living creature's heart?" Cas demanded, his low voice rising. "If my brother was not a vegetable, he would go Trickster on you!"

Whoa. Go Trickster on you? Cas is mad.

"Okay, okay, nice chat, good luck to you sir! Come on Cas!" Balthazar clamped his hand around his brother's wrist and towed him up the steps. As the posse was retreating, they heard a shot pierce something breakable and the sound of glass shattering.

"I do not like him," Cas had regained his usual air once back in the apartment.

"I don't blame ya'," Dean muttered.

"I plan on coming for Gabriel in a week or so," Cas informed them. "I will have to talk with you later. Balthazar and I need to see something through."

The two were gone in a flutter of wing beats. Huh. Quick visit.

* * *

><p>Sam was out cold on the couch. Gabriel was watching television and cramming pop-tarts down his throat. Dean slipped out of the apartment unnoticed. He was hyped up on pie and ready for some action.<p>

He strolled down the dark corridor until he saw a woman. He froze. She wasn't a woman. But she was. She looked like plasma and the Northern lights.

"Help," she mouthed, no sound coming from her lips. "Help!"

"Who—who are you?" Dean asked, holding his ground.

"Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help."

* * *

><p><strong>Since at the end of every chapter all I do is ask you to review, I'm going to thank all of you who have reviewed. And ask you to review. Please. For the squirrel.<strong>


	7. Justin Beiber and The Beatles

Sam was yanked from his dream about the Terminator and the squirrel switching bodies by a door slamming. Gabe's head flicked toward the noise. He was still up watching television. Sam sat up.

"Dean?"

"Strawberry Fields?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "It's not John Lennon."

"What do you—"

"The ghost! It's not John Lennon. I saw her."

"_Her?_"

"Nothing is real?" Gabe questioned.

Ignoring the archangel, Dean said, "It's a chick."

"John Lennon had some pretty long hair…"

"Sammy, I'm positive that it's a chick. Which means that we are back to square one."

Sam sighed. "Not entirely. We know that that statue is involved. We just have to find the connection."

"And where would you have us start, Sammy?"

There was a pause. "I'm working on it."

Another pause.

"Well work on it faster!"

"Here—how about we check out John Lennon's apartment? I am not convinced that the Beatles have nothing to do with it," Sam jerked a thumb toward Gabe.

"Cellophane flowers in yellow and green, towering over your head."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Neither am I. So does anyone live there now?"

Sam hopped on his computer. After a few minutes of loading, the screen sprang to life. Sam pulled up Google and researched it.

"Okay, it seems like the apartment was just bought five weeks ago by—seriously?—Justin Beiber?"

"Well, this should be interesting. I've been wanting to bash that kid's head in since I first heard 'Baby'."

* * *

><p>The Dakota is not far from Archstone. In a nutshell, it is an apartment complex that is a refuge for famous people. John Lennon had purchased apartment #72 with his wife Yoko Ono from Robert Ryan.<p>

And now _Justin Beiber _of all people owned it.

Sam, Dean, and leashed Gabriel hiked over to the elevator. They boarded the small car which was already bursting with people. A quick glance around and the brothers realized that they looked slightly out of place.

Everyone was dressed casual, sure, but their jackets and shoes were immaculate. Their hair was styled to perfection. They stood with confidence.

Sam, Dean, and Gabriel were far from immaculate. Their shoes and clothes were caked with goop from the outside world. Their hair was blown about by wind. They stood like the average man.

Hopping off on the seventh floor, they quickly found apartment #72. They knocked on the door.

Justin Beiber answered. He glowered at them. "I'm not doing autographs today. Get lost." He slammed the door.

The brothers looked at each other. Dean knocked again.

Beiber yanked open the door. "What?"

"What? Well, I'm going to give ya' a bit of advice, kid. One : cut your hair. I thought Sam here was bad. And Two :," Dean whipped out a gun. "Never question the guy with the Glock."

Beiber gulped. "Okay, okay, I'll do whatever you want. Just please… don't hurt me. I have a show tonight…I can't disappoint the fan girls…"

"Dude, your fan girls are like, twelve," Sam cut in.

"And twelve year olds get disappointed easily. My point is proven."

Dean pushed past him into John Lennon's apartment. He whipped out the EMF meter.

"What's that?" Beiber asked shakily.

"EMF meter."

There was a pause in which no one spoke.

"So...what does it do?"

"It detects EMF."

"Which is…?"

"Ghost residue."

"Oh. Your nuts," Beiber laughed shakily.

"Get anything?" Sam called. He had his own EMF meter going.

"No."

"Me either."

The brothers brushed past Beiber, Gabriel in tow.

"Sorry about that," Sam apologized.

"I'm not," Dean mumbled. "And remember," Dean spoke up louder. "If you tell anyone about us—and I do mean _anyone,_ kid—we have guns." As if to prove his point, Dean pulled out his Glock. "And we will hunt you down and find you no matter how many bodyguards you hire."

Beiber gulped.

The three intruders turned on their heels and left apartment #72.

Like usual, they were cautious as they entered Archstone. As predicted, The Terminator fired off a few rounds at them.

"It's us! IT'S US!" Dean called, hands up.

"Oh. Sorry."

* * *

><p>"Let's see if we can glimpse her," Sam suggested. The three were sitting Indian-style around an empty pizza box. The pizza was devoured in a little under thirteen seconds.<p>

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Maybe she'll say something besides 'help' tonight—like where her bones are buried." Dean, the optimist.

Sam tied Gabriel to him.

"Tangerine trees and marmalade skies."

"That's great, Gabe."

The trio ventured out into the darkness.

They walked around for an hour, no sight of the girl. Dean decided it would be a good idea to split up. Sam thought it was a horrible idea, but went with it anyway. He and Gabriel took the North and East wings, Dean the South and West.

Deciding to go up a floor, Dean pressed the button. He boarded next to a young woman. This was a bit strange, considering that, generally speaking, the people of Archstone weren't out at three A.M much.

She was beautiful with pale eyes, skin and hair.

"Hey," Dean said. "I'm Dean."

The woman looked over at him, serenely. It took Dean a moment to realize that he was looking right through her.

"Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help."

"I'd love to help," Dean told her with his most charming smile. "Just tell me where you are buried."

"Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help."

The elevator doors flung open. Dean's eyes flickered to them for a second. When he looked back to the woman, she was gone.

"Damn ghosts."

* * *

><p><strong>Balthazar and Cas love reviews with a passion... *hem* *hem*<strong>


	8. Hell's Bells

Dean had hopped off the crazy train for an hour and went to get some breakfast alone. He left Sam and Gabe in the apartment with the box of pop-tarts.

He had just devoured a foot high plate of pancakes loaded down with whipped cream and syrup, along with a side of sausage, bacon, and eggs, completed with a cup of black coffee. He exited the restaurant. He had to admit, New York has good food.

Across the street, he spied a familiar trench coat. So the Dynamic Duo was back.

He ran across the street, narrowly avoided by cars, to the two angels.

"Dean."

"What are you still doing here, Cas?" Dean asked.

Cas looked away from his eyes for a spit second and then back to him.

"I take it you don't wanna tell me."

"No, not really," Balthazar said.

"Oh, come on!" Dean yelled in frustration, causing a bit of a scene. "How long have I known you guys?"

"In my defense, not long," Balthazar answered.

"Well, Cas has. And he frickn' raised me from Perdition. You said yourself, Cas, that we share some kind of angel mojoey supernatural bond thing."

Cas sighed. "It is okay, Balthazar. We shall tell him."

"What?"

"What?"

"We will come to your apartment in a few hours," Cas told him.

And then they were gone.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Dean called as he flung himself into the apartment and onto his unmade bed. "Cas is coming by tonight."<p>

"You know who else decided to drop in?" Sam called from the kitchen. "Come see."

Well. This didn't sound good.

Dean grabbed a conveniently placed gun from his nightstand and marched into the kitchen, en guarde.

"Crowley?"

"Close your mouth, guv. The little buggers will fly in."

"What do you want?"

"The same thing your Cassie-dearest wants."

"And that is…?"

Crowley leaned forward. "Qaphsiel."

"A what now?" Sam asked.

"Qaphsiel is an angel, moose. You might say that he is a spy. One of Cas's best. Rumor has it that he was caught and Raphael forced him out of his vessel with some kind of fancy spell that I—that I can't even pronounce. Anyway, he's said to be wandering around in New York somewhere. Sadly, since he's not in his vessel, he could be anyone or anything which makes him almost impossible to find."

"And…so…why do you want him?" Sam asked.

"The little duckie has a piece of information I need."

"What kind of information?"

"That, moose, is my business."

The demon and Winchester the younger glowered at each other.

"Take a sad song and make it better," Gabriel interrupted. The three had forgot that the archangel was even there.

"And what happened to this one?" Crowley asked.

"Well, we thought John Lennon slimed him. Now we have no idea."

"Oh. I see."

* * *

><p>Cas showed up at about six at night, without Balthazar.<p>

"Dean," Cas began. "The reason that we are still in New York is—"

"Yeah, yeah, Qaphsiel, I know."

Cas entered deer-in-headlights-mode.

"Crowley stopped by this afternoon. He explained the entire thing," Dean informed him.

Understanding seeped into Castiel's features. That made sense. Crowley tends to be well-informed.

"Why did he explain the entire thing to you?" Cas questioned.

"He wants us to call him if we see anything," Sam said. "And then he'd give us some 'vital information to the case'." Sam made sparkle fingers as he said Crowley's quoted words.

"Did he say why he wanted him?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Something about information. Wouldn't say what."

Crowley's last words before poofing off were, _Information for some information! Everybody wins. How charming._

"I see," Cas mumbled. "Well, if you do see anything—"  
>"Do you really think we'd trust that creep Crowley?" Dean asked.<p>

Cas looked at his feet.

"You'll be the only one to hear from us, Cas. We'll help you. Doesn't look like our case will be solved soon anyway. We reached a total dead end."

"Thank you, Dean."

The angel was gone in a flutter of wing beats.

* * *

><p>"So whaddya want to do about Miss. Spook?" Dean asked.<p>

"Lucky in the Sky with Diamonds," Veggie-Gabe commented, nonchalantly. He was still as mellow as he had been since he was struck with the Beatleitis.

"I vote we go out tonight. And I also vote that Gabe's on your team," Sam told him.

"What?"

"Come on, dude! I've been watching him this entire time!"

"Not true!"

"True!"

"Alright. Maybe a little true."

And so, a grumbling Dean was tied to Gabriel. The three ventured out, only Dean and Gabriel went left and Sam went right.

Sam found himself in the lobby, staring up at the statue. The Terminator was out cold on the lobby couch that he had turned into Swiss cheese.

The statue had stayed miraculously intact. He gazed up into the woman's eyes.

And then the squirrel peeked over her hair.

"SQUIRREL!" The Terminator screeched, suddenly awake. The squirrel squeaked and darted away a split second before five rounds were shot off.

The statue's head was blown into little itty bitty bits.

And then she was there. The ghost. The girl. Her eyes were narrowed as she advanced toward The Terminator.

The Terminator cowered and looked to Sam for help. "I—I—I can see ri—ig—ght through he—r."

"Interesting. She's protective over her statue," Sam commented, watching the scene.

"Her statue? What—s go—ing on? HELP!"

Sam shot her with the rock salt gun. She flung away to who knows where.

"Is she dead?" The Terminator asked.

"Nah. She'll be back in a bit."

The Terminator gulped. Finally regaining his usual attitude, he said, "Ya' make one hell of an exterminator, kid. Give me a ring if you wanna sign up with me. I could use a rookie like yerself."

"Will do," Sam replied as he turned away. He was going back to his apartment. And when he got to his apartment, he was going to sleep. And when he went to sleep, he wasn't going to even attempt to wake up until about three tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>Crowley told me to tell everyone that he has Cas and Cas's fate relies on weither or not you review. Save Cas! Poor angel didn't know what hit him...<strong>


	9. Rest in Peace

**My computer died. Epically. I just got it fixed. So sorry there hasn't been any updates in a while. I haven't fallen off a bridge or anything. Still alive. Oh, and Crowley let Cas go.**

* * *

><p>Sam was out of it. He had been sleeping for ten hours and wasn't likely to wake up in the near future. He distantly heard someone calling his name through the foggy haze of grogginess.<p>

"Sam!"

Sam rolled over. The stupid voice calling needed to shut up.

"Sam! Bitch! Wake up!"

"Jerk," Sam mumbled, then drifted off again. Suddenly, he felt a solid shot to his shoulder. He grunted at his attacker, but then fell back into the abyss of sleep. The abuse stopped for a short while or a long while—Sam lost all track of time in his haze.

But all good things come to an end.

He heard a loud _SPURT!_ emit next to his ear. His eyes flew open, only to be greeted by a face full of whipped cream. Sam flung out his arms to stop the spray of fluffy sweet goodness, but didn't even slow it down.

He fell out of bed in a mass of sheets and his own limbs. He was mumbling threats and protection spells.

"Good to know that you'd never get overtaken in your sleep," his brother commented.

Now that the whipped cream bombardment stopped, Sam whipped it away from his eyes so that he could glower at his brother.

"What?"

"DUDE!"

Sam stormed off into the bathroom and threw himself into the shower. Half an hour later, he had all the sticky sweetness off of his person and was stalking back toward Dean.

"Well?" Sam demanded.

"Well…?"

"Well, why the hell did you spray me with whipped cream?"

"It didn't look like you were getting up without help."

"A little help from my friends," Gabe appeared out of nowhere to comment.

"Exactly, Gabe," Dean responded.

"What was so important?"

"Sammy, I think I found the answer to our ghost problem. You know how she is all protective over that statue?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, I think her spirit's in that statue!"

Sam glared at his brother, opened mouthed. He thought that his brother had worked that out himself ages ago. Why did he travel with this fool? Because he loved him. And fools like him would get themselves killed without Sams running around saving them.

"No, no! Here's the rest of it! The spirit has made a big effort to be noticed, right?"

"Yeah…"

"What if, by sliming Gabe with the Beatles, she wasn't trying to tell us _who_ she is, but _where_ she is?"

Click.

"We gotta go back to Beiber's."

* * *

><p>Justin Beiber looked absolutely horrified to see Sam, Dean, and Gabe again. He was more appalled to see the giant distructo sledgehammer in their possession.<p>

"Hold Gabe," Dean ordered Beiber. Justin hesitantly took the end of the twine leash.

"Ob-la-di," Gabe mellowly suggested to Beiber. Beiber retaliated with a revolted look.

And then Dean took a stroke at the wall with the sledgehammer.

"SONOVA—WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU BASTARD?" Beiber yelled.

"Sam! Silence the pop-singer whose voice has been electronically enhanced in his annoying girly fruity songs!" Dean ordered.

"Hey!" Beiber defended.

Sam pulled out a Wesson. Beiber gulped and didn't say another word.

After about twenty more minutes of tearing down drywall, Dean called Sam's name. Sam raced over to his side.

The brothers heaved out a bag that was covered dust and mouse droppings.

"We have mice," Beiber said in dismay. "I don't like mice."

"Shut it."

"Sorry."

Dean slipped a knife out from who-knows-where and slit the bag open. Human bones clinked out.

A sharp _THUD!_ sounded behind the brothers. They turned around for a beat. Justin had fainted.

"You were right," Sam commented. "She was telling us where she is."

"You say that like you doubted me," Dean replied with a smirk.

"So what now?"

"Salt and burn?"

"Sammy, Dean-o, do you always have to talk every little decision out?" Gabriel said, annoyed.

"Shut it, Gabe."

"Yeah. Not in the mood for you."

The two brothers paused for a beat.

"You're not talking in Beatle!"

"You're back!"

Gabe looked befuddled. "I…I hadn't realized that I'd left."

"Dean, she just wanted to be found! That's it! She's moved on, Gabe's proof."

"We'll stay tonight to make sure," Dean informed him.

"Of course. Finally! A job that didn't end bloody!"

"What are you knuckleheads talking about?" Gabe asked. "And why is Justin Beiber on the floor? And why do I have a piece of twine around my wrist?"

* * *

><p>Sam did some of his 'nerd research' and, after two hours work, narrowed down a long list of suspects to the true identity of the girl. Rose Tylerson. Age eighteen. Disappeared coming home from work at the local factory on November 16, 1935. Sam was able to piece together that her brother, who was convicted of being a serial killer and rapist, probably killed her and stuffed her body in the bag. From the looks of it, he let the body rot away in his cellar and then put it in a newer bag around the year 1937. Sam could identify this because he looked up the company the bag came from which went out of business in 1938. He stuffed her in the walls of his apartment—apartment #72 in the Dakota.<p>

Small world.

Dean thought it was only right that they buried her. So they did.

Rose Tylerson finally got peace.

* * *

><p><strong>Review to celebrate Gabe's unveggifiedness!<strong>


	10. Epiloge

"Find anything yet?" Cas asked. Dean jumped then whirled around.

"Cas, I hate it when you do that!"

"I am sorry."

"No, we haven't found anything."

Suddenly, Balthazar and Crowley had joined them.

"Sam! Get in here!" Dean called.

"What?" Sam grumbled as he entered the kitchen. "Oh."

"Why are you two caked with dirt?" Balthazar asked.

"Had to bury someone."

"Long story."

"I see."

Balthazar and Cas sat down at the table. Crowley remained standing.

"So," Crowley said. "Information for information?"

"We solved our case," Sam snapped. "Without your help."

"Easy, there, moose. Well, I'm off then. I'll take my leave."

Crowley vanished.

"We have come upon some new information concerning Qaphsiel," Cas informed the brothers. The two waited with interest. "I have heard from trusted sources that Qaphsiel has turned into some kind of rodent or small mammal."

"Ah."

"I see."

There was silence for a beat.

Oh, duh. Big, frickn', major huge, giant mental head slap.

"THE SQUIRREL!" The brothers shouted in unison.

"Wha—" Balthazar began.

Crowley appeared out of nowhere. "Thanks, guvs. That's all I needed." He disappeared again.

"He was listening! Where is this squirrel?" Cas asked frantically. "We must reach him before Crowley!"

And hence the great squirrel race began.

* * *

><p>"Here, squirrelie squirrelie squirrelie!" Crowley cooed as he strode across the lobby. The Terminator was looking at him like he was some kind of nutcase. He was holding fire.<p>

Cas, Balthazar, Sam and Dean bulleted down the stairs into the lobby.

"Qaphsiel? It is I! Castiel, with Balthazar! Where are you?" Cas called.

Now the Terminator was a little more than confused.

"Qaphsiel!

"Qaphsiel?"

"Qaphsiel!"

"Qaphsiel." The demon's eyes settled on the little rodent. The squirrel made a bee-line for Castiel.

"Ah, no you don't, Duckie."

Crowley chased after the squirrel, attempting to pounce on it but only managing to fall on his face.

The Terminator looked unsure of what to do. He held fire. Sam and Dean stood back, also unsure of what to do.

Balthazar attempted to grab the squirrel, but collided with Crowley. Crowley shot a string of colorful words at the angel and took a swan dive at the squirrel again.

Finally, as if awaking, the Terminator fired off a few rounds at Qaphsiel. One hit Crowley squarely in the chest. He squeaked and fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

The little posse surrounded the fallen demon.

"I—I can't move my—my vessel!"

"Sorry," the Terminator apologized.

"Heaven thanks you for your service," Cas told the Terminator. The squirrel hopped up on Cas's shoulder and the two angels and the squirrel disappeared right before the Terminator's eyes.

The Terminator's jaw hit the floor.

The brothers left Crowley in the middle of the floor.

* * *

><p>The brothers were packed and on the road by eight. Sam was dozing. Dean was raising his blood pressure, staring in dismay at all the traffic.<p>

And the epic battle between good and traffic began.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to all who reviewed during this story!<strong>


End file.
